Hermione Granger and the Summer of Changes
by JoesephThomasIIII
Summary: Many summer fan fics focus around Harry. This is Hermione's summer adventure. No other HP characters till the end. Please Read and Review
1. Is It Really Going Home?

I do not own the Harry Potter book series or any of the characters, places, objects, etc contained within.  
  
I was thinking. We all know about the adventures that the characters have during the school year, but what about the summer. I noticed that fics include anything over the summer focus on Harry alone or Harry with a friend. Well, Hermione Granger isn't going to see Harry until the end of the summer. This is her story.  
  
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* Hermione Granger and The Summer of Changes  
  
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Part One: Calm After the Storm  
  
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Chapter One: Is It Really Going Home?  
  
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For what may have been the first time in her conscious life, Hermione Granger didn't want to think about anything. She didn't want to think about school. She didn't want to think about the fact that she was returning home. She didn't want to think about Victor Crum, the eighteen year old, world famous seeker that asked her out. Most of all, she really didn't want to think about Harry.  
  
Thinking of any of that made her think of two things, both of which she wanted to avoid thinking of more than anything. One was the fact that Voldermort: You Know Who, He Who Shall Not Be Named, The Dark Lord, Thomas Riddle; had returned to power. As a muggle born witch, a witch without magic parents, she was a target for him. As Harry Potter's best friend, she was doubly a target. But even more than that, she didn't want to think about something that Harry had said three years earlier.  
  
They had been boarding the Hogwarts Express, to return home after their first year at Hogwarts. She had commented that it felt weird to be going home, but Harry told her that he wasn't really going home. That summer, and the two summers after, she felt that way. Both Hogwarts and her parents' house were both home. But now, whenever she felt guilty when she thought about it. Her relationships at Hogwarts had changed. Her relationship with Harry and Ron changed. Ron had never been a great friend. He was the one that sent her crying into the bathroom first year. If she hadn't been there, she wouldn't have been almost killed by the mountain troll. Harry, on the other hand, was a great friend.  
  
After spending so much time helping him with learning things necessary for the TriWizard Tournament, and keeping him up with schoolwork, they had become closer than ever. Secretly, she began to fancy him more than a friend. During the year, it progressed from a mere crush to full-blown- truly-madly-deeply love. She tried to deny it, thus her slight flirtation with Victor Crum and escorting him to the Yule-Ball. When Harry disappeared at the end of the third task, she thought that she would die if anything happened to him. When he returned, with Cedric's body, she somehow knew what had happened. But she only cared about the fact that Harry was ok. And the kiss on the cheek, her heart fluttered at how brave she was in doing that.  
  
But the guilt caused by thinking about that was too much for her. She felt guilty because now she really didn't think of this as going home. She was going away from Hogwarts, away from Harry, not going home.  
  
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Emma Granger watched her daughter through the rear view mirror with a worried look on her face. She had no idea what was troubling her daughter so. She knew that Hermione kept things from her. Before she started at Hogwarts, Hermione wouldn't have dreamt of keeping things from her mother. Yet now, she obviously did. She almost never wrote home. When she did, it was nothing but bare minimum facts. Though the school had notified her when her daughter was petrified for several months, two years earlier, her daughter had never even mentioned it.  
  
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Hermione looked up and noticed her mother staring at her. She knew that she was worrying her mother; she had barely said hello and nothing more for the whole car trip home. But what would she say?  
  
"Mum, because you and father aren't wizards, we are targets for the evilest dark wizard of all time. Because I am the best friend of his mortal enemy, I am doubly a target. Don't worry though; I'm sure he will kill you fast. He will take me and make an example of me."  
  
That sure wouldn't go over well. She hadn't even told them about Voldermort. They knew nothing of her adventures at Hogwarts. She hadn't even told them about using the time turner to take extra classes during her third year.  
  
Suddenly she was jarred from her worries by her mother's voice.  
  
"Honey, what's wrong? We're here. Home. Aren't you happy to be home?"  
  
Oh, she just had to ask that of all questions. Frankly, she wasn't. Hogwarts was her home. With Harry was her home.  
  
Without answering her mother, she got out of the car, grabbed her trunk, and walked into the house. She didn't stop until she got to her room. She closed the door behind her, hard. She knew that her parents would follow her and demand, gently, to know what was going on.  
  
In light of Voldermort's return, Harry, Ron, and she had been given special permission to do magic out of school. The first thing she did with the magic was locking her door so that not even her parents' master key would unlock it.  
  
Having done that, she slumped against the wall and cried her heart out.  
  
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Several hours later found Hermione just as alone, but in a different place. After crying her eyes dry, she decided to sit out on her balcony. After a few minutes of not being satisfied with that, she did what was decidedly the most dangerous thing she had ever done outside of Hogwarts. She climbed up from her second story balcony to the window ledge of the third floor. Moving further away from her room, she found a spot to wedge herself against the chimney and shimmied up to the roof.  
  
Her parents' house was large by any standards. With three stories and a basement, H-shaped construction, twelve chimneys with seventeen fireplaces between them, ten bedrooms, a formal dining room, ball room, kitchens, study, library, offices for both her parents, and more closets than you could count, it was more than large enough for the family of five.  
  
Hermione sat against the chimney on the ridge of the roof. On either side she could see for miles. It was so peaceful. So much like being up in the tower at Hogwarts. She still hadn't said anything to her parents since the hello at the train station. She hadn't even said hello to her younger twin sisters, Hailey and Anne, yet. They would be turning eleven any day. They wanted Hogwarts letters so badly.  
  
Hermione knew that if they did get Hogwarts letters, things would change, drastically. She had no doubt that Dumbledore was training Harry, Ron, and Her to fight the Dark Lord. Not that he actually took them aside and trained them. But she knew that if anyone other than Harry, or maybe Ron and her as well, had been the fourth name out of the Goblet of Fire, then they would not have been allowed to participate in the tournament.  
  
If her sisters got Hogwarts letters, she would have to tell her parents everything. They didn't even know about Voldermort. They didn't know about any of her adventures. They didn't know, because she had chosen not to tell them. Why? Because she was afraid that if she did, they might not allow her to return to Hogwarts. She loved magic too much for that. Moreover, she loved Harry too much for that to happen.  
  
She was still feeling guilty for not wanting to be away from Harry. She loved her parents and her sisters. But other than them, there was nothing for her where she grew up. She had never made any real friends there, choosing books instead. She didn't belong to any groups. She had even read everything that remotely interested her at the local library. On the other hand, at Hogwarts she had everything. She was the top of her class. She was respected and well liked, and not just because of her grades or her friendship with Harry. Teachers loved her. Even Hagrid's pets loved her. Even Harry loved her, although as far as she could tell it was more as a brother loves his sister than she wanted it to be.  
  
So, the trip that had taken her entire day: Was it a trip home?  
  
She was partially right her first year. It did feel funny to be home. So funny, in fact, that it didn't feel like home at all.  
  
It was that fact that frightened her more than anything else.  
  
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Well? What do you think? Tell me I'm good. Tell me I suck. Tell me about your trip to the supermarket. Just please review and tell me something. 


	2. Please Read

I usually hate Author's Notes instead of updates, but I have to ask. Is anyone reading this? Does anyone want me to continue? Or do I have to send this over to my friend Orion to use as one of his Short Shots?  
  
Please Review, just positive review and I will continue this story. 


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